Antidote
by shipperfey
Summary: When all you pray for is a second line… Sequel to Ad Infinitum, but can be read separately. JackSam.


**Title: Antidote (1/1)**  
**Author:** Alice J. Foster

**Summary:** When all you pray for is a second line…

**Category:** Angst, POV, Romance, Other

**Season:** Season 10.

**Spoilers:** None.

**Pairing(s):** Sam/Jack.

**Rating:** R/NC-17 or M.

**Feedback:** Please, you will make my day.**Warnings:** graphic sex, sexual situations, language, sex

**A/N I:** This story is set in the same universe as my **Ad Infinitum** story, however, it can be read on its own. It's a little less than two weeks after the team visited Alexandria.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

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Your love is just the antidote when nothing else will cure me  
There are times I can't decide when I cant tell up from down  
You make me feel less crazy when otherwise I'd drown  
But you pick me up and brush me off and tell me I'm OK  
Sometimes that's just what we need to get us through the day

"Push" by Sarah McLachlan

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**Antidote (1/1)**

I nervously fumbled with the set of keys in my hand, laughing to myself (and _at_ myself) for being so stupid.

The humidity was almost unbearable and I could feel my clothes clinging to my body; I was wearing my Air Force uniform and I had walked three blocks --_three_ blocks-- three goddamn Washington D.C. blocks-- all because I was too paranoid that the Airman that was driving me would recognize the house I now stood in front of.

The house I'd been standing in front of for fifteen minutes, holding the keys tightly in my hand. Now the irony of it all was that the house was _mine _in a way of speaking; sure, it was a rental, but I was technically still the rightful owner of fifty percent of everything inside it.

How many wives had ever stood in front of their homes and yet felt like intruders? Probably not very many. It's not even that I'd never been to this house before, because I had. It had more to do with the fact that suddenly I was very unsure of how my husband would deal with this particular surprise - he _hates _surprises…

… and _maybe_ I was just a little bit intimidated by the contents of the brown paper bag I was holding, courtesy of the mini-market half a block away.

I took a deep breath because there was no going back, and I turned the key in the lock.

The whole place smelled like him; I hadn't been to Washington in a couple of months, and the house definitely reflected my absence. To any observer, this was just the home of a very single General - with an unhealthy obsession for The Simpsons- I noted as several DVDs of his collection were neatly piled up by the television in the living room.

Underneath his essence, I could smell the faint odor of beer - or maybe that _was_ part of his essence, along with leftovers and dynamite – all of it just small parts of what made Jack O'Neill the man he was.

The place wasn't a mess, but it wasn't tidy either; just someplace in between, order in chaos and vice-versa. I made my way to the master bedroom, ignoring the guest bedroom with its dozens of boxes piled up that betrayed the idea that this was a real home; this wasn't home, home was Colorado Springs and the SGC. But this was a fine substitute, I realized as I saw the familiar bed and yesterday's clothes on the floor. I put down the paper bag I was holding and traded it for a gray USAF t-shirt, bringing it to my nose and inhaling deeply.

"I never thought I'd be jealous of my own tee," a throaty voice came from the doorway, startling me and making me drop the garment back to the ground.

There was a lump in my throat, even as I felt the corners of my lips turning upwards. "I didn't hear you come in," I said as my eyes met his; he'd changed before he left work, because he was wearing jeans and a short-sleeve button-up shirt and he looked… _breathtaking_.

"Well, you know, Black Ops and all that." There was a smirk on his face and I wanted nothing more than to kiss it away, but there were still five feet between us.

"I'm sorry I didn't call, but--" I started to say, and he interrupted me with a short laugh as he closed the distance between us.

"You have _got_ to be joking. This is the best thing that happened all week."

And his lips were on mine and I suddenly forgot all my unease. We both broke the kiss after a few seconds, and then realized that we needed to taste more of each other. We went back for more, deepening the kiss, tongues wrestling and working together to make us forget that it'd been almost 2 weeks since we'd last seen each other.

When we pulled apart next, we were both panting for more and he just pulled me into his arms, the effect that our kissing had on him was evident against my stomach and I shuddered at the heat coming from it. I didn't want to think about the ominous brown bag on the floor, or the discussions that would ensue because of it. I just wanted to feel him around me, above me, inside me; anything that could buy us more time, so I could close my eyes and believe for a few more moments.

I started to unbutton his shirt and he quickly caught up with me as his hands moved to the buttons of my uniform, making faster work that me. I stilled my actions long enough for him to yank my shirt off and throw it somewhere towards the bathroom and then I was on him again. The last few buttons were the hardest, as his hands had found my breasts bound by my bra, white silk and lace that I rarely wore under my uniform. I gasped as he squeezed one nipple tightly between his fingers, the lace biting into the skin and sending white jolts of pleasure cursing through my body and pooling in my pelvis.

His head bent down as if to kiss my shoulder, but his lips never actually made contact as his breath caressed the expanse of skin and causing me to shiver. He moved to the other shoulder and did the same, until lips and teeth finally closed in, right where my shoulder meets my neck. With one movement, I pushed the shirt off his shoulders and down to the floor, frustration filling me as I saw yet another obstacle – an undershirt. He must've realized that I was about to rip the fabric off his skin, because he pulled back slightly and pulled the undershirt off. Before I could reach behind me to unzip my uniform skirt, he was pushing us towards the bed.

I started to lower myself onto the mattress, once the back of my knees hit the frame, but he stopped me and turned me around. His hands reached for the zipper on the back of my uniform skirt and it graciously fell into a pool around my feet. Before I could move to step out of them, he was pulling my panties halfway down my thighs, suddenly limiting my range of motion and my protests were silenced as his fingers found their way between my nether lips. My moan was loud and throaty, the pleasant surprise almost enough to throw me over the edge already; I hadn't even noticed how close I was, just from heavy petting – actually, just from being near him.

His free hand pressed against my back and I bent forward to allow him more access, supporting myself on the mattress with stretched-out arms. Then that hand was gone and from what I could hear behind me, it started working on his clothes.

Skilled fingers continued their assault against the sensitive flesh; ever so often one or two fingers would dip inside and bring yet more moisture out to spread around. I felt the initial tremors that forewarn the best orgasms, accompanied by every muscle in my body clenching up and releasing over and over again. He must've felt it too because three fingers entered me this time and he started moving them in and out with increasing speed; the position allowed for his fingers to hit just the right spots every time, and my climax hit me so intensely that my knees buckled, and his arm came around to encircle my waist and keep me up.

His fingers were quickly pulled out, drawing a disapproving groan from me but just as suddenly, something thicker and harder filled me again. My groan evolved into a passionate scream that I couldn't hold back or muffle. His thrusts were careless and erratic, no real rhythm – just the need to get the relief he needed. My arms pushed against the bed again once my legs were stable enough, and I started meeting his thrusts.

The arm that was around my waist moved up, pushing my bra out of the way and kneading my breasts, while his other hand moved to encircle my neck and pull my upper body closer to him. A moist kiss was pressed against the nape of my neck, before his mouth moved to my earlobe, teeth nipping sensuously against the sensitive skin.

My second orgasm was unexpected, hitting me with so much power that it took all of my strength to keep me standing up this time. Jack's thrusts became even more intense and I finally felt him coming inside me.

We tumbled sideways onto the bed, both struggling to regain our breath. My underwear was still around my thighs and I wriggled out of them. My bra was next and I turned to find Jack staring at me with a patented smirk on his face. "What?" I asked. Unbuttoned jeans and his briefs had been pushed out of the way but they were still on, as well as his shoes and suddenly I was smirking back at him.

He finally kicked his shoes and socks off, then took off his jeans, settling back in bed wearing just white cotton briefs and a smile. I snuggled closer to him and played with the sparse silver hair on his chest. "We don't do enough of this, you know?" He asked.

I pulled back slightly to look up at him in puzzlement; we definitely didn't have as much sex as we'd like, considering we were stationed in different states and all, but I didn't think he meant sex.

"Me, coming home to find you… or vice-versa," he explained. "It's one of those things I wish we could do more often." There was some pain behind his eyes, but then it was gone and he smiled. "Sorry, what I meant is that I'm glad you're here—actually, why _are_ you here?"

I shrugged. "Daniel is still trying to find a way back to the Ancient Repository; Teal'c is still on leave with Rya'c and his grandson, so I asked for a few days off. It's, uh—" I trailed off, unsure of how to explain. Finally I just got out of bed and found the paper bag I'd put down earlier. I pulled the blue-colored rectangular box out of it and tossed it to him.

He stared at it for a second and then back at me. "Have you taken it?" It was a pretty dumb question, considering that the box was still wrapped in plastic, but I just shook my head.

"I'm due tomorrow, so I was thinking I should take one tonight."

There was a look of hope mixed with fear on his face, the same one I'd been wearing all day and I suddenly remembered the pain of the past few months, looking at single-lines and minus-signs and all the other negative results these things used. I kicked myself for flying to Washington and pulling him into my hopeful fantasy; it was so much easier to just call him and let him know that once again we'd failed – I'd failed. I suddenly realized that seeing the hope leaving his face was going to break me. But the truth was that I couldn't do it anymore; I didn't want to cry by myself in my cold bathroom once again.

"Let's go take it," he said, getting out of bed, excited like a boy on Christmas morning. I couldn't help but follow.

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Three minutes. One-hundred and eighty seconds. One-twentieth of an hour. Just enough to make or break a person. I'd convinced Jack to leave the bathroom long enough for me to pee on the damn stick, and then he was back, pulling me into his lap as we both precariously sat on the edge of his bathtub.

I nervously glanced at my watch once again. Forty more seconds to go, and there was still only one pink line visible through the plastic window. It was going to be another negative and I felt my heart weighing in my chest, making it harder to breathe or think or move. Jack's hand squeezed my knee in support. "It's going to be another negative," I announced somberly.

"Shhh," he protested. "You don't know that yet."

"I do, Jack. I've been taking test after test for months, they're all negative. I don't—I just don't know how I can do this time and time again."

"We're not giving up yet," he added sternly. "This isn't us; this isn't you, Sam. You don't give up; you examine the situation, you fight and you win - _every time_. It's what makes you a great soldier and it's what makes you a great leader."

"This isn't about me being a soldier," I whispered as I fought back the tears. "It's about having something wrong with me, with my body… I think—I think Jolinar did mess me up; or, or—maybe it was from before Jolinar, maybe I've never been able to have kids."

"There is _nothing_ wrong with you, do you hear me? Nothing." He reassured me.

I wanted to argue, to yell at him for saying something he had no way of proving, but instead I just let his arms wrap tighter around me. My watch beeped and I refused to leave his embrace for several more seconds, my heart not ready to give up hope yet, even if my mind had already done so.

Images flashed before my eyes: a little boy with light brown hair and Jack's eyes, or maybe a little girl with dark hair and blue eyes; feeling them grow inside me, holding them, tucking them in; bandaging and kissing a cut; watching them taking their first step, riding their first bike… it was all so clear to me, it was as if I'd done it before. So natural… so _perfect_.

With a sigh, I prepared to look at the awful white stick of crushed dreams---

--- only to find a faint second line. Very faint, but it was definitely there.

I showed it to Jack and he frowned as his hand covered my wrist to move the object back and forth. "Do you see it?" I asked him.

He nodded then raised his eyebrows. "Does this mean…?" he trailed off and I nodded.

"I think so… They say a second line, no matter how faint, is a positive result. I should probably take another one in the morning, but—it's there."

"It's there," he echoed as his face broke into a smile and he crushed my mouth against his. "It's there! We so did it!" He exclaimed excitedly.

I laughed more heartily than I'd allowed myself to in months.

The next morning, after a second test showed an even darker line, my husband and I called General Landry.

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The End


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